This is a fiction/fact experience involving explicit language and graphic gay sex. If you are underage and/or offended by such, please exit now and go to Mr.Rogers'Neighborhood. He has a wonderful site to suit your needs. All rights reserved. Story copyright held by its author.
HIGH SCHOOL: Junior Year
Goddammit how I hated guns! That sounds strange coming from a boy in Tennessee. I hated all guns...especially M-1 rifles. In the sophomore and junior years of highschool, it was required that all male students take ROTC. This meant an hour class every day, and the wearing of wool Army uniforms every Monday and Tuesday, which meant we had to march or do exercise, mostly push-ups, no matter what the weather. From December through March, it was so fucking cold, your hands could drop off carrying a M-1 in ten degree temperatures, without gloves. Your platoon leader would make you stand at attention and come by for rifle inspection, which meant you had to click that bolt back on the count of "two", hand him the rifle to check for dirt, and push the automatic spring bolt closer down with your frozen blue fingers, hoping against all odds you could get your thumb out in time, before it slammed shut and you lost a finger. Fridays were alway spent cleaning the goddamned thing, taking it apart, reassembling, followed by another inspection.
There was no way in God's world that you could get out taking Rotsie for two years, Your senior year, if you weren't a candidate of to becoming an officer, it was an elective and you could opt for gym class. I was not too popular with my ROTC class officers or army supervised instructors. I never seemed to pass inspection, which meant, my platoon was deprived of getting medals and they were forced to do extra pushups, due to my lack of army discipline. I was yelled at and screamed at constantly, and loathed by the guys in "G" platoon.
One day during, third period English, I got stomach cramps and had to run to the bathroom to escape a diarrhea accident. I couldn't stop "going", and I stayed sitting on the john, missing half of my fourth period ROTC class (I was so sorry, ha,ha,ha). I went to the First Aid Nurse to get a swig of Kaopectate and a pass to get to class. When I arrived at F.A., the nurse asked how I was feeling and I said "Not, so good". She told me to go into the room and lie down for the rest of fourth period and she would send a note to my army instructor.
This was the first in a long series of chronic diarrhea attacks, that (for some reason) always hit me right before fourth period...I spent a lot of time, lying on that cot. Needless to say, I got a "D" in the course. I would have flunked completely had it not been for the "A"'s I made on the manual tests on Wednesdays and Thursdays. I don't know how I survived nine months of this figurative and literal shit, but I made it through sophomore ROTC. Just short of suicide, I would have done ANYTHING to escape the junior year requirement.
My best friend had found a way to escape...he played trombone in the marching and concert band. They were considered the ROTC band, and the only marching they had to do was the routines for Friday night football games, and two annual parades...The band NEVER saw a rifle or NEVER had to do pushups. I had a big problem. The only instrument I played was the piano...and you sure as hell couldn't march with one of those strapped under your chin or to your back.
Then I heard that two of the four band "managers" had graduated and the band director was looking for replacements. I had no idea what the duties were, but I would kill myself trying to fulfill the duties. I found out that a band manager was a glorified "water boy" or "gofor". You carried instruments, making sure that the one's belonging to the school, were always, shiny and clean. You had to keep the band members supplied with uniforms, music, and equipment. Hell, I would have taken 64 uniforms home and washed them by hand, weekly, to get out of junior ROTC...you see, that was the deal...it you were in the BAND, you were exempt from ROTC...and that's how my daily uniform consisted of white coveralls instead of army green pants, that scratched your legs so severely when you sweated and marched, in hot or cold weather, that you quite often bled from the chaffing you received daily...And so I, officially, became a band manager. I was so happy, you'd have thought I was the band captain...no more M-1's!!!
The duties weren't that difficult. The band's focal point was on the Tri-State Band Festival, held each year in Bristol, Tennessee. Our band had been No.1, in the state for years, so another superior rating was expected in this competition. It would be a four day trip. via Greyhound bus. We would be sleeping in private homes, furnished by residents in Bristol, housing two, four, or six, whichever they could accommodate. I assumed and hoped I would be staying in a home with my best friend and jerk-off buddy, the trombone player. We had had many sexual encounters, jerking and sucking, since we were fourteen. These sessions helped me come to grips that I was queer and liked guys. It didn't work out that way with him...He enjoyed having sex with me, his best friend, but only because he was unable to find a girl to have sex with. BUT NOW, he was going steady... he didn't need me, the way I needed him. He was my one and only and up until Delores. I had been his.
I kept feeling that being surrounded by all these "blow boys", there must be one of them that had "queer" feelings such, as I. I looked at each boy in the band, daily, for that "look"...that "movement", or clue... that "mating" call. I thought I had found one...a cute tall junior, slim build, beautiful blue eyes, encompassed by long black lashes, named Ernie. He played French horn in the concert band and "E" trumpet in the marching band. He was a cross between Richard Long and Sal Mineo. I, being a blonde, was always attracted to brunettes. I wasn't bad looking myself...I was six feet, trim, rather masculine...no one would have ever guessed what turned me on in my private masturbatory sessions. I mean, I was popular, dated girls on the weekend (for appearance sake), and showed a date a good time. I always took them to a fancy restaurant, followed by a movie or school dance. I always settled for a quick peck of a kiss at the door, NEVER opting to cop-a-feel, or making her feel uncomfortable. I would usually drive by my best friend's house to "get off" after I took my female date home. No one and I mean 'no one' ever suspected anything unusual about me.
I tested my private waters by jerking off while thinking about Ernie, to see if he could make me excited. Now if I could only find some way to get him to reciprocate the feelings...if I could only find a way to get him, alone...I wondered if he had a roommate for the band trip. I would ask. I did. He didn't...and guess who signed up to share a room together?
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The band was ready and set to go. We had practiced a routine that couldn't be topped by any competition. The band would conclude its routine with the "1812 Overture" and it was the manager's job to fire small cannons on the end of the marching field during the climax. We were all excited. The one thing we hadn't planned on was the weather. The temperature was to drop to around 10 degrees. This left a lot to be desired for those guys blowing in the mouthpiece of a brass instrument. God, it was cold! When we arrived, we got our rooming assignments. Ernie and I were to stay at the home of an Episcopal priest and his family...a wife, a teenage son and daughter. The son was a freshman in college...also studying for the priesthood. He was the perfect specimen of all good-looking six-foot, blue-eyed, flat-top blonde. His name was Jim. He should have spelled his name "Gym", because he was muscles personified.
Ernie and I were to share Jim's bedroom, giving us, his double-sized bed. He would sleep in a study on a couch in the study on the second floor to their manse. It adjoined the "our" bedroom. The family was terrific to us...feeding us a prepared family banquet. Jim asked Ernie and me if we were going to shower before bedtime, and if so, could he shower first, as he had to get up early and drive back to college. That suited us. We sat in the living room talking to the parents, when Jim entered the room stark naked, on his way to the bathroom. No one, the father, the mother, nor the sister, seemed to notice his nakedness. Ernie and I looked at each other in total amazement, as we had never seen a family so liberal. It would never occur to either of us to even let our dads see us nude, much less the whole family. It was such an "openness", we had never encountered. We presumed that the whole family was use to each other's privacy. But looking at Jim, standing their in all his glory, caused a pained boner in my pants that I knew would never go down all night, without assistance. His perfect face had the perfect body to match.
He had only come in the room to remind his mother, to get him up early. I, cautiously, glanced at Ernie to see if he was crotch-watching. His eyes were glued on that religious icon, that I wanted to drop to my knees and worship. When Jim left, the conversation got burdensome, as I couldn't concentrate on what to say...neither could Ernie. So after a few stymied pauses, we said we were a bit tired from the bus trip and would like to settle in for the night. We thanked them for the hospitality and the meal, and trudged up the stairway to the bedroom. We had just opened our suitcases to pull out our pajamas when the naked god got out of the shower and came into our room.
"Anything I can get you guys before you go to bed?", he asked.
"No, no, we're fine...how about you, Ernie?"
"Er, no, I'm fine...fine...we're both just fine."
"Okay, you guys have a good band festival, and I'll see you Friday night...Good night."
"Good night."
Jim left.
"Do you believe that?" I asked Ernie. "I mean could you ever walk around your house, naked, in front of your parents and sister?"
"No way...my mom would have me arrested, after she came to."
"Have you ever seen a more beautiful guy, in your life?"
"I wouldn't say he was beautiful," Ernie replied, "Guys are "beautiful"...but he was certainly attractive."
I thought, "Uh oh". I had better drop the subject rather than drop a few hair pins. I didn't know anything about Ernie's sexuality, but he had just hinted "homophobe". This meant that pajamas were in order. I turned my back to him on one side of the bed and began taking off my clothes. He did likewise. We donned our PJ's and crawled into bed, covering ourselves with a sheet, a quilt, two comforters, and a bedspread. I was around 5 degrees outside, and the room had a psychological chill in it, even though the house was well heated. We clicked off the light and lay there quietly.
Then, from the study were heard a steady rhythmical thumping.
"What's that?" Ernie asked.
"I don't know. Maybe Jim is doing some exercises before going to bed."
We listened closely to identify the movement by the sound.
"I think Jim is beating off". Ernie whispered.
"I think you're right."
The image of that adonis body I had seen jerking off in the next room made me tent a sheet, a quilt, two comforters, and a bedspread. I grabbed my penis, trying to force it down...all the while, listening for more sound effects from the study. Maybe two minutes passed and we heard a moan, and a few gasps...Jim was cumming...all by himself. Jesus, what a waste of holy fluids. Then, a minute later, we heard his bare footprints heading toward the bathroom. When he got to the door, he reached his hand into the bathroom to turn on the light before he entered. Our door was cracked, and we could see the bathroom light spill across his body. He was clutching his crotch, covered by a handful of tissues. Ernie and I lay there watching and listening as Jim peed, flushed, turned out the light and tiptoed back into the study.
"I wonder if he does that in front of his family, too?" I asked in a low voice.
"Probably."
The time was right for some probing.
"Ernie, do you jerk-off?"
"Occasionally, but I don't make a habit out of it...How about you?"
"I...make a habit out of it."
"Shit, man, you horny bastard, stay on your side of the bed," he joked.
"I can't. My feet are cold, and I was going to ask you if I could warm them up next to yours."
"I bet mine are colder than yours."
"Let's see...stick out your right foot and touch my left."
He slowly slid it over. Our feet touched. Damn, his WERE colder than mine.
"OK, dammit, you win. Leave it there and maybe the body temperatures will warm them up."
He left it touching mine. I took this as an invitation to allow the side of my calf and knee make additional contacts. Innocently, he responded by moving closer to me, so that the side of his thigh was now touching mine, through the pajamas. Once again we lay there, quietly, until he said, "Hey, are you hard?"
"Like a rock."
"Me too, but don't get any ideas...OK?"
"OK."
His right hand brushed my left thigh as he reached down to grab hold of himself. I was still grasping mine for dear life. I was making slow movements with my hand, not big enough to draw his attention. By the slight fanning of the covers, I sensed he was doing the same. I was about to burst inside with confined excitement until I flung the covers down to my knees and said, "Hell, Ernie, if we don't beat off, neither one of us is going to get to sleep."
That was all the encouragement he needed. He raised his hips to pull his pajama bottoms down to his ankles. I did the same. We both grabbed out cocks and started jerking them forcefully. The main difference was that our "bare" legs were now touching from foot to hip. His right-hand stroking was causing his elbow to bump into my side. This let me monitor the speed of his stroking. I had no place to put my left arm and hand. During the movement, my hand was resting on the left side of his pelvis.
Once again, I got the courage to pry, "What are you thinking about?"
"Cumming...what are you thinking about?" he asked me.
I waited about ten strokes before I blatantly said, "I was thinking about Jim's naked body."
"Hey, hey, do guys turn you on?"
"This is a helluva time to say it, but, yes, at times."
He stopped his hand jive to pursue the topic.
"All guys, some guys, or just one guy in particular, say, like, "Jim".
"Most guys, I guess Ernie."
"Are you queer?"
"Sometimes." (Well with my best friend any way). I thought about him and suddenly wished he were here so that I could "get off" properly.
"Do I turn you on?...Or just Jim?"
"I'm not in the bed with Jim, right now,...so I guess you can say that you turn me on. But don't worry...I won't do anything...that is... anything that you don't want me to."
"Have you ever had sex with a guy?"
"Several times...well, with one guy, several times."
"Do I know him?"
"Yes...he's in the band."
"Who is he?"
"Oh no, I don't kiss and tell...Have you ever done anything with a guy?"
"Never."
There was a pregnant silence. I didn't know whether to start masturbating again, or wait for him to continue his query.
He continued, "Suppose we were to do something...would you tell?"
"I told you...I don't tell anything."
"Would you like to touch me...I mean just "touch"?"
"Only if you want me to."
He waited about ten seconds and grabbed my hand and placed it on his swollen phallus. As soon as I touched him, his penis throbbed.
"Jerk it, just a little."
I grasped it and started a slow movement."
"Oh, man, that feels good."
My hand grew tighter and I started a steady beat. On the up slides, I could feel his pre-cum covering his glans. I took the side of my forefinger to catch some of the fluid and began using it to wet his entire shaft. He sighed and moaned, and I reached with my other hand to cup his balls. As soon as I did, they began to contract as his ball sac tightened. Without saying a word...he edged his hand over toward my crotch and let his hand envelop me. His hand was cold, but I knew that my cock heat would soon warm it. He started pumping me, matching me stroke for stroke.
"Oh God, this feels wonderful..." he whispered.
"Are you about ready to shoot?" I asked.
"I'm almost there."
"Don't cum, just yet. Let's play a little bit first."
"What do you have in mind?"
"Trust me."
"OK"
I finished removing my pajama bottoms and straddled his thighs so that our balls and cocks were nestled together. I reached down and grabbed both our dicks and began to masturbate them together.
"Oh, God, this is TOO much."
"Now let me know when you get close...so that we don't get any semen on the sheets."
"I'm ready now...do you have some Kleenex or a handkerchief?"
"No, but I have something better."
"Well, you better get it because, here it comes."
With that, I quickly lowered my head and engulfed his entire cock in my mouth. He came in spurts. I caught the first one and swallowed it...then another...another...seven, in all. His legs and toes flexed as his back stiffened and the back of his head pushed down into his pillow. I continued my feeding until I felt him begin to become flaccid. My mouth was still filled with his juice, mixed with my saliva. I kept thinking, I've gone this far. I touched him, jerked him, gone down on him, swallowed his most intimate treasure, I might as well go farther and risk the whole incident. I had nothing to lose, as I raised my head toward his, and searched for his lips. I kissed him, tight-lipped, at first, then I let just the tip of my tongue try to gain entrance into his mouth. I don't know if he was responding or trying to get his breath, but he opened his mouth and received a gush of cum, saliva, and hard tongue, all at the same time. He began to swallow the spunk and twirled his tongue over mine. I lowered my body, covering his, while giving him the most passionate kiss I have ever given anyone...male or female. He was so into this, that he wrapped both his arms around my back and pulled me into him. Our bodies, meshed together, began to roll onto our sides then back to his back, to the sides, once again, and then, as if, in a wrestling match, he rolled me onto my back, putting himself on top me, without ever stopping the long, long, kiss. The room was still dark, so I never once could see the expression on his face. Finally, he unlocked our lips.
"I don't believe what just happened."
"Did you like it?"
"Oh, man, I've never felt anything like that in my life."
"You're not mad?"
"Only if you tell."
"I told you...that's one thing I won't do."
"Swear to God?"
"I swear."
He still didn't offer to move. He was still laying on top of me. He lowered his head to kiss me, once more. Either I had created a monster or I had unleashed a demon inside him that had been trying to get out for a long time.
"You didn't cum, did you?"
"No."
"Want me to help?"
"Only if you want."
"What do you want me to do?...I mean, how do you want to cum?"
"It's your ball game. I'll lie here and you can do anything to me that you want, outside of beating the shit out of me?"
He laughed. "Just lie back, and let me try a few things...this is all very new to me."
"My body is yours, doctor."
He kissed me again, briefly, and let his tongue start a saliva trail across my cheek, down my neck to my sternum. He moved his mouth over to my right nipple and flicked it with his tongue, then back to the quest. He went to my left nipple to even the sensation, then a slow crawl to my navel as he pushed his tongue in and out. I heard him breathe heavily, trying to dander up the courage to continue his downward journey. He did a few quick licks down the path of my pubic hairs leading to the blonde patch. where he nuzzled his nose, at the same time flutter kissing the top of my shaft at the base. I locked his lips on the base and slid down toward the tip. He didn't take the tip in his mouth, instead, he continued his movement to slide down the underneath of my cock where he began kissing my balls. He steadied the sac with his hand while he took each one in his mouth separately, and then the entire scrotum. I was so hard, you could have run a flag up my pole. If he didn't suck me soon, I was going to be the only junior in high school with an enlarged prostate. I soon got my wish, as he took a plunge and took all of me into his mouth, down his throat, and gagged, gasping for air.
"Just take a deep breath." I assured him.
He began bobbing his head up and down with long, tight, wet, suction. I, suddenly, thought, that if I came in his mouth, with as much excitement as I had built up over the past four hours, he would probably choke to death. I decided to warn him that I was on the brink. I pushed his head back, but, NOTHING DOING. he had worked hard for his reward and he wanted it...so I gave it to him. It must have been an all time record for me, as I had never ejaculated as much and long as this. He sputtered, gagged, swallowed, breathed, and dived for more until I was drained. My well was dry. He copied my action, like a mother bird. He ascended back to my face and began to tongue feed me, my own jism. Ernie had really gotten into this, and I was enjoying every minute of it. His kisses were so hot an heavy now, that there was no way I could have heard the footsteps coming toward the bed.
"Hey", a voice called.
Ernie and I froze, completely.
"I couldn't help but hear, what was going on in here, and I just wanted to see if you guys were all right?"
It was Jim, the blonde god.
I waited for a few seconds to get some sort of signal from Ernie on what to do next. Finally I took the initiative.
"No, Jim. we're not all right...we're cold and were trying to create some body heat."
"I threw back all the covers and said, "Would you like to get us warm?"
"I would love to." he said as he joined us in bed...all three naked now, facing a cold winter's night.
Jim leaned over and kissed me on the mouth, as Ernie lowered his head and joined us in a three-way oral linkage.